


Carved Out of A Hopeless Wish

by Lady_Vibeke



Series: A Thin Red Line Between Stubborn Spirits [4]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Power Couple, Din Djarin is a Softie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Feels, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:55:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22098277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Vibeke/pseuds/Lady_Vibeke
Summary: He sets the child down between himself and Cara and tentatively reaches out to take her hand. His eyes close for a moment, his breath hitching, when he finds it beautifully warm.He breathes out a shaky laugh when the kid presses both his tiny hands over theirs.“Yes, I know,” he tells him, and the last bit of tension washes out of his body.Instinctually, his thumb seeks the pulse under Cara's wrist; he finds it, strong and regular, and finally concedes himself the luxury to believe she’s going to be alright.“Damn you, Dune.” He lets his head tip backwards as he exhales heavily. “Never do this to me again.”Behind him, he hears Kaunis snicker."Not your girlfriend, huh?""It’s... complicated."
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: A Thin Red Line Between Stubborn Spirits [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1579576
Comments: 27
Kudos: 421





	Carved Out of A Hopeless Wish

**Author's Note:**

> I fell in love with Pedro Pascal watching Game of Thrones: I had a huge bi crush on Oberyn and Ellaria. So the female OC in this chapter? Totally Indira Varma inspired!

It takes them nothing to reach Galactic City, and yet, to Din, it feels like the longest agony he’s ever experienced.

He holds Cara as if he could keep her life inside her just by clutching her to his chest, reminding her – hoping she can feel it – that he’s here for her. The kid watches from his floating pram, confused, looking from Cara to Din with a question in his eyes.

"It's okay, kiddo,” Din says, sounding not half as reassuring as he would like to. He swallows the knot burning in his throat, tries again. “Cara's alright. She's gonna be alright. We’re not gonna lose her.”

He tries his best to believe it.

Their destination has a private landing platform on its rooftop, to which, to Din’s great surprise, the Razor Crest still has a granted access. This is a blessing, because they don’t have much time: Cara is deadly pale, her lips white and dry. There’s too much blood soaking her clothes, cold and sticky under Din's hands. She’s still lying on his lap on the floor when IG-11 gently pries her off of his arms.

“I’ll carry her for you, Master. You’re exhausted.”

The mansion is huge and ostentatious, a perfect mirror of its owner. There’s someone waiting for them in the platform when they disembark; she comes forward, tall and lean, her elaborate dress flowing behind her like yellow and orange wings.

Din staggers up the stairs leading up to her, the kid bobbing after him in his cot.

It’s been almost a decade since he last saw Kaunis Novalis, and somehow she's still the same as ever, as if time forgot to take its toll upon her as it did with Din. Looking closely, there are lines on her face he didn’t remember and sparse grey hairs among her curls, but her golden brown skin is still glowing and her eyes are as sharp as ever.

She unfolds her arms as he approaches, dramatic as ever.

"Well well well, if it isn't Din kriffing Djarin.” Her hazel eyes flicker critically all over him. “You look terrible. What brings your sexy ass to my humble abode after such a long time?"

"I need a favour."

Kaunis gives him one of her trademark smirks. "I love you owing me favours. What is it about, this time?"

Din moves aside, revealing IG-11 carrying Cara's limp body up the stairs.

Kaunis's eyes go wide. He guesss it’s because of the droid – she, too, has a few issues with droids.

“Oh, Din.” She crosses her arms and shakes her head in disappointment. "You finally bring a girl home and she's in this condition?"

"She needs blood, Kaunis,” he says, surprised by how strained he sounds. “A lot of it. Now."

If there is one person in the galaxy who can help him save Cara, that is Kaunis. She has power, money, and a life-long history with Din.

Without a single hint of hesitation, she stands aside and gestures to the droid.

"Bring her in.” She pushes Din inside, scowling as the kid flies in after him, giving her a curious look.

“I'll make a few calls,” she says. “Do you have her type?”

Din can barely understand what she’s saying. He can’t his eyes and his mind off Cara.

“No,” IG answers for him.

“She’s human, though, is she?”

“Yes,” Din finally croaks.

“Take her downstairs, pick any room you like.” Kaunis grabs Din’s elbow as he makes to follow IG and the kid into the elevator. “I’m gonna get you the best healer in the parsec,” she promises, gazing straight into his eyes.

Din nods, unable to better express any of the immense gratefulness he’s feeling.

Some things never change, he thinks while the elevator descends into the core of the mansion. After all this time, Kaunis still has his back, and he’s never cherished her friendship as much as he does now.

He and IG open the first room they find on the floor where the elevator takes them. There’s a large bed next to a huge glass wall facing the city beneath. Its white sheets get smeared with blood as soon as IG lays Cara down. Din feels the urge to check her pulse again when he sees her head roll heavily to one side.

“She’s still breathing, Master,” IG tries to reassure.

 _Still breathing_ is not enough. Din needs to know she’s going to be fine.

He’s been sitting at Cara's side for less than half an hour when Kaunis walks in with a squad of medics and so much equipment they must have dismantled a whole hospital wing.

“Out,” she orders when Din blinks at her through his helmet. “Let these ladies and gentlemen do their job. I’m gonna call you when they’re done saving your belle.”

Din can’t move. He has one arm wrapped around the kid, sitting on his lap, and a hand squeezing Cara’s, impossibly cold. His brain _understands_ he has to move; his body, however, can’t seem to cooperate. It’s like his limbs don’t belong to him any longer, his willpower lost somewhere between the cold, hard dread gripping his guts and the faint ghost of hope.

It’s all raining down upon him out of nowhere, or so it feels to him, a crippling fear that he’s losing something important before he even had it, and he doesn’t know how to cope. With the anger, with the frustration, with the unbearable powerlessness.

Cara is slipping away from between his fingers and there’s nothing he can do but wait for someone else to stop this.

“We need to leave, Master.” IG politely grabs his arm to urge him to stand up. “They can’t help Mistress Cara if you stay here.”

Something finally clicks. Din casts one last look down at Cara, the knot in his throat tightening as his fingers reluctantly untangle from hers.

The next couple of hours are the longest and worst of his life.

He refuses to do anything Kaunis suggests – take a bath, eat, go punch things in her gym – and flops against the wall outside the room, instead. He’s drained of any energy, has got nothing left to give but a shaky breath as he slumps down to the floor with the child curled around his neck.

All he has in the world is here – one half in his arms, the other half fighting for her life just beyond the wall. He didn’t know how distraught he is until he sees his own knees shaking.

He hasn’t felt this tired in a long, long time.

Something hot and wet tickles down his neck. He holds his breath.

The child burbles in his ear, his soft ears brushing under his chin. His mere presence seems to ground Din, calming him just enough to allow his breath to slowly even out.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, cradling the child’s head into his hand. He receives a soft gurgle in return, which, despite everything, manages to bring a broken smile to his face.

This is all he has to hold onto right now: his kid’s feather weight and a prayer he sends out to whoever will listen to let Cara come back to him. To _them._

The kid has just fallen asleep when, after what feels like forever, the hiss of the door sliding open startles him.

Din is on his feet before the doctor comes out, lowering the mask from her face. The drumming of his heart against his ribcage is so deafening he can barely process what the woman is telling him.

"She's weak but stable. Hopefully, she'll wake up soon."

Din is not sure he actually pronounces the _'Thank you'_ or if it’s a loud, overwhelming shout in his mind.

“Can I see her?” is all he can put together.

“As soon as they finish dressing her,” the doctor says, then disappears back into the room, leaving Din facing a closed door with his whole body sore from the tension.

"Did you hear that?” he exhales, patting the kid’s back with a sorry attempt to let out a choked laugh. “You did well. Cara will be fine.”

It’s not exactly what the doctor said, but it’s enough for him.

He’s still waiting in front of the door when the ticking sound of heels fills the hallway.

He sees Kaunis approaching, seemingly coming out of nowhere, with a leather pouch in one hand and a solemn expression that is very unlike her.

“Heard she’s gonna be okay.”

Din’s mouth is so dry he can barely put two words together.

“Yes,” he croaks. He eyes the pouch, which he figures contains the doctors' remuneration. “I’ll pay you back, Kay, I promise.”

It’s a lie. He’d have to sell the kid to the highest bidder to be able to get his hands on whatever sum the pouch contains. Kaunis knows this, too.

She shakes her head, then squeezes his shoulder with a sigh.

"What's going on, Din? I don't see you for years and now you show up at my doorstep with a strange green pet-"

"Baby,” he corrects, but she doesn’t even notice.

“- a tin nanny-”

“IG’s more like a bodyguard.”

"- a beautiful unconscious girlfriend-"

"She's not my girlfriend."

"- and you expect me to move mountains for you without a single explanation?"

This would be funny if Din wasn’t burning from the need to burst into this damn room and see with his own eyes that what the doctor told him is true.

"I'll explain everything, I promise,” he says absently. “Just let me see Cara, first."

Kaunis purses her lips.

“Her full name is Carasynthia Dune. Born and raised on Alderaan. Mercenary, former shock trooper.”

She looks at him like she expects him to flinch or show any sort of shock. All he takes away from that is _Carasynthia._ He can’t wait to tease Cara about this.

He glowers at Kaunis, offended that she would even think he would ask her to shelter someone less than worthy of her assistance.

She simply glowers back.

“Don’t look at me like that. I trust you but I don’t welcome strangers into my home without checking their records, even and especially when they’re as gorgeous as your partner. I’ve got her file, if you’re interested. Juicy details included.”

“Cara can tell me about her _juicy details_ herself, when and if she wants to.”

“This isn’t something the Din Djarin I used to know would have said.”

“Maybe I’m not the Din Djarin you used to know.”

Unexpectedly, Kaunis breaks into a strange grin.

“Maybe you’re not,” she comments pensively. This is when the door opens again and the whole team to doctors leaves with their equipment.

Din is paralysed. If just seconds ago he couldn’t wait to get inside, now, for reasons that are beyond him, his legs are refusing to move.

“Come on, lovebird.” Kaunis unceremoniously shoves him inside. “Let's go see your Cara.”

Din nearly trips on the threshold.

 _His_ Cara.

He likes the sound of it.

He’s going to have to confront this subject sooner or later. If not with Cara, at least with himself.

The room is immense, but the smell of blood is intense and sickening, an iron stench that disturbs Din as much as it’s disturbing the kid, who is making little annoyed noises.

Even from afar, Din can see that the sheets of the bed have been changed and Cara is lying there, pale and motionless, wearing something blue and silky Din does not recognise.

“I hope she won’t mind I lent her one of my night gowns,” Kaunis comments, and Din can understand why she thinks Cara might complain: the gown, however fine and expensive, is nothing like her style. The pastel colour suits her, though, gives her an ethereal air Din is sure she would detest.

Almost amusedly, he thinks of the insult Mandalorian men use to offend Mandalorian women: _laandur,_ delicate. Cara would positively hurt him if she knew he’s looking at her thinking she’s _delicate,_ and this makes him smile, because, in fact, she would make an exceptional Mandalorian.

He sits on the bed, right next to where her arm lies with an IV attached to the inside of the elbow.

She’s been cleaned up, her face free from the red prints Din left when he was rocking her, trying to keep her awake. Burns and bruises mark her skin here and there, shiny with bacta. The one thing that allows Din to release some of the stiffness in his shoulders is the bit of colour that has returned to her face.

He sets the child down between himself and Cara and tentatively reaches out to take her hand. His eyes close for a moment, his breath hitching, when he finds it beautifully warm.

He breathes out a shaky laugh when the kid presses both his tiny hands over theirs.

“Yes, I know,” he tells him, and the last bit of tension washes out of his body.

Instinctually, his thumb seeks the pulse under Cara's wrist; he finds it, strong and regular, and finally concedes himself the luxury to believe she’s going to be alright.

“Damn you, Dune.” He lets his head tip backwards as he exhales heavily. “Never do this to me again.”

Behind him, he hears Kaunis snicker.

"Not your girlfriend, huh?"

"It’s... complicated."

Din won’t take his eyes off Cara but still knows Kaunis is staring smugly.

"I _love_ complicated.”

She makes a pause, waiting for him to say something. When he doesn’t, she adds: “Funny how she was covered in blood and her shirt was torn and burnt but there is no wound to be seen.”

Of course she wouldn’t have missed this. Catching fundamental details used to be her job, after all, and old habits die hard.

Din sighs, his thumb absently stroking Cara’s wrist. “That is the one thing I’d rather not talk about.”

He will tell her if she demands it – he owes her an honest answer – but he knows her well enough to be confident she won’t insist.

Kaunis doesn’t disappoint him.

“As you wish,” she says, not without making it very clear that she doesn’t appreciate his reticence. She respects it, though, and this is something Din always loved about her.

“So,” she begins then, with the tone of someone who’s well aware they’re changing the subject to a more difficult subject. “A Mandalorian and a rebel shock trooper? You don’t hear this every day.”

“Stranger alliances have happened.”

“What about your baby? Oh, let me guess: not your baby.”

Din rolls his eyes. Ironically, the kid chooses this exact moment to plop down into his lap.

 _Not his baby_ doesn’t sound right. And he might admit he’s started to consider the child as his own – _his_ foundling – but this doesn’t make it any more legitimate, not to common people. To one of his own kind, on the other hand, this would mean everything: Mandalorians build their clans on emotional bonds, not blood ties, and this only reminds Din that his whole family is right here in front of him, within his reach, when only a few hours ago he thought he was going to lose them forever.

“Again, it’s-”

“Complicated,” Kaunis concludes for him. “I get it. Unsurprising, though. Has anything about you ever been simple?”

“Our friendship?” he offers, just because he knows she’ll have to agree with him.

Sort of.

“That’s so sweet, but do I need to remind you about that time in the Outer Rim?”

“My shoulder still aches, sometimes. That stab you gave me was brutal.”

“Never underestimate a woman.”

A corner of his mouth curls as he looks down at Cara, smiling fondly.

“I never made that mistake again.”

In the silence that follows, he can feel Kaunis’s eyes study him, Cara, and the kid, the picture they make together. Din has no delusion of walking out of here without Kaunis having him all figured out. She’s always been able to read him better than he can read himself.

“Does she know?” she inquires, and he doesn’t need to ask what she’s talking about, but asks anyway.

“What?”

“That you’re in-”

Kaunis _knows._ Of course she does. He’s always been an open book to her. Even back in their early days, when he was a scrawny little boy and she a blossoming young woman, she could always understand him better than anyone else ever did.

“No,” he says, well aware of what this statement is implicitly admitting. He observes Cara’s face, her peacefulness, wishing he could dig beneath it and discover if she, too, feels what he feels. Sometimes he thinks she does, other times he tells himself he’s just seeing what he wants to see in the way she looks at him, smiles at him. Even in their silences, he always senses something electric between himself and her, something he can’t name, or doesn’t have the guts to name.

“Maybe,” he stutters, suddenly feeling sad. “I don’t know.”

Which is not exactly the truth.

He’s not _sure,_ but does he actually not know? They’ve been pretty forward with each other ever since day one: they never tried to hide the mutual admiration and respect, and they certainly never had the nerve to deny their mutual attraction; the words they haven’t yet spoken have been written in their eyes, in the way they look at each other, and act around each other, and care for each other. That, and how they seem to gravitate around the child in complementary roles – he, the nurturer, and she, the protector.

They may not be exactly there yet, but it’s quite clear that this is what they’re becoming, day by day: a family.

“You should tell her,” says Kaunis, towering beside him. She’s looking at Cara, too, curiously, as if she was an encrypted code she’s trying to break.

“I won’t forgive you if you let a woman like this slip away from under your nose.”

A pang of guilt strikes Din. He can’t but agree: he wouldn’t forgive himself, either.

It’s not just that Cara is a formidable fighter (and if he really had to be completely honest, even a better fighter than he is); she sells herself as a wry, tough loner, but he got to see through the cracks in this disguise, and what he found beneath – the brave, selfless protector – charmed him more than the facade she wears on the outside.

He values her. As a warrior, as a partner – whatever meaning the term might take.

“She almost did, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

His jaw clenches. He’s not used to seeing himself as a coward, but this is how he feels right now. If Cara had died in there... Is he really so pathetic that he was willing to let her go without telling her-

Something pulls at his arm. He looks down to find the kid pointing his huge eyes at him while chewing on his gauntlet. Din picks him up.

“I think he’s hungry. Do you have something for him?”

Kaunis quirks a brow at him. “A whole damn kitchen. Whatever he wants, he can have.”

“Would you mind if IG took care of that?”

“My maid Yuyu will provide anything he requests.”

Kaunis stands stiffly a few feet away when IG comes in to take the kid.

“I can’t believe you’ve taken that thing in,” she grumbles as the door closes.

Din is barely listening, too preoccupied with following the light rise and fall of Cara’s chest to acknowledge anything but his own breath gradually synchronising with hers.

"Look at you,” Kaunis whispers. “Heart eyes and everything.” There is a hue of awe in her tone. “I'd have never thought I'd see you like this, one day."

“That makes two of us,” he grudgingly agrees. Cara would make fun of him for this. This is something she and Kaunis definitely have in common.

“You've got it bad, uh? Can't blame you. I'd always wondered why you never seemed to be affected by crushes. Your peers would fall in love with someone new every other day, and you would barely consider anyone. I can finally see why.”

Din arches his brows. She may not be able to see it but he knows she'll get it.

“You have unattainable standards,” Kaunis jerks her chin in Cara's direction. “Well, _virtually_ unattainable. Look at her: face of a princess, body of a warrior... I bet you were a goner before you even had her name.”

Din follows her gaze to Cara. Despite the heart-clenching sight she makes at the moment, he somehow ends up smiling at the memory of her coming down on him on Sorgan.

“Our first meeting was... turbulent.”

Kaunis chuckles knowingly.

“She kicked your ass.”

“She kicked my ass.”

Kaunis giggles like a delighted little girl.

“No wonder you're head over heels for her. You always had a thing for girls who can break your bones, and this one looks like she doesn't even need to touch you to get you on your knees.”

“That is... actually very accurate.”

“I know my ladies,” she flaunts, then her attitude softens: “She's gonna be okay, Din.”

He nods. “I'm trying to convince myself she is.”

“Why don't you go get some rest? I'll-”

“I'm not going anywhere,” he cuts her off with unnecessary bluntness. His hand still hasn’t left Cara’s and that’s not going to change any time soon. Not until he sees her awake and fine. Maybe not even then.

Kaunis seems to get this.

“No, I suppose not,” she sighs. Din feels her hand upon his shoulder. “I gotta go, now, loverboy. I’ll check up on you later. Yuyu will be downstairs, if you need anything. Please, make yourself at home.”

If Din was in better shape and a little more focused, he would pull her into a crushing hug.

“I owe you,” he mutters instead, and hears her tut.

“You know I can't say no to that adorable inexpressive bucket of yours. Hey,” she squeezes his shoulder tighter. “She’ll come back to you.”

She doesn’t wait for his reply. Her heels tick across the room and the door hisses open.

“Kaunis?” Din calls without taking his eyes off Cara. The ticking of the heels stops. “Thank you.”

“Don't mention it,” Kaunis says, then the door closes and the room falls silent.

Din doesn’t know how long he sits there, how many times roams aimlessly up and down the room, then sits again, waiting.

Kaunis's maid shows up from time to time, brings a tray with food he barely touches, then comes back to take it away without a single word. Din decides he likes her.

The hours go by – three, eight, nineteen – and the night is falling for the second time when Din starts wondering if he should start worrying.

The city lights shine relentlessly outside, painting the room with their dim, artificial glow.

He's starting to feel an insane impulse to take off his helmet and smash it against the glass wall.

Cara is still there, immobile, trapped in her unbreakable sleep. Seeing her like this, still and helpless, frustrates him more than he can endure.

His fingers hitch as he stares at his own reflection in the glass, wondering what his face looks like under his mask, how bad the circles under his eyes are. His hands ball up into fists as he starts fighting the urge to remove his helmet – if not to smash it into the glass, at least to give himself a break after two days straight of captivity.

This shouldn’t be taking so long.

Cara should be awake by now.

She should-

“Mando?”

His eyes flash up to the bed in the reflection: a pair of black eyes are blinking sleepily at him.

He spins around and in a moment he’s beside her with a hand on the mattress and the other cupping her face ever so gently.

“Hey,” he greets softly.

Words are tangling on his tongue, his brain failing him miserably while he attempts to remember all the things he wanted to say to her. None of those seems so easy to explain, now.

Cara tries to sit up.

“No, no, no, stay down. You’re still weak.”

She turns to him, mouth open but no sound coming out. The way her eyes flicker all over his face – or over the barrier between her and his face – reveals something he wasn’t prepared to deal with.

“I can see you,” she says with a smile that tears a hole in his heart. “I can _see.”_

“You can?”

He’s disappointed and feels awful for this. She just woke up, something he’s been praying for for two days, and all he can think about is that he won’t be able to look directly into her eyes again.

“It’s a bit blurry but...” She blinks a few times, the smile spreading across her lips. “Yes.”

Din wants to be happy for her, but deep down he knows that this is a loss for him as much ad it’s a blessing for her. He’s going to miss the freedom her blindness granted him. Now he can only look at her from behind a veil, and she can only look at him without even seeing him.

He barely has the time to commit to memory the two dimples that have appeared in her cheeks before the smile fades, replaced by a confused frown.

“Where are we?"

"Somewhere safe.”

Neither of them had noticed Kaunis enter the room.

“Welcome back to the living,” she says, winking at Cara while approaching.

 _No,_ Din wants to scream. _We need more time! I need more time!_

Cara bolts up, grimacing in pain in the process. The machine monitoring her vitals beeps frantically. Din pushes her back down.

"It's okay. It’s okay.” It’s not okay. He just needed a little longer... “Kaunis is an old friend."

 _"Old_ isn't the first term I'd use to describe her.”

Kaunis beams. "Gorgeous _and_ gallant? Din, you lucky bastard. I want one, too!"

"I'm afraid she's one of a kind."

“I'm sure she is. My my, look at those eyes. I have Naboo jet pearls not half as striking as these black suns.”

Cara seems intrigued.

“Are you hitting on me?”

“Absolutely,” grins Kaunis, and Cara follows. Din doesn’t miss the smug curve her lips take. He's going to have to cope with his jealousy later.

“Cara, Kaunis Novalis. Kaunis, Cara Dune.”

Kaunis offers her graceful hand for Cara to shake.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart. How do you know this scoundrel?”

Cara rests back on the pile of pillows, sending a half smirk in Din’s direction.

“It's complicated.”

“So he says.” Kaunis scrutinises her full of fascination, then eyes Din mischievously. “You two make a beautiful couple.”

“We're not a couple.”

“Oh, wow. And here I thought _he_ was in denial.” Kaunis brings her hands to her hips with an overdramatic _tsk._ “This is worse than I thought.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Never mind. You hungry, Cara?”

“Not really.”

“Great. I'll have Yuyu put on some soup.”

Without giving Cara a chance to protest, Kaunis exits the room, turning back right before closing the door to give Din a shameless wink.

“Sorry about her,” he sighs, bringing his attention back to Cara. “She's a handful.”

“Understatement. But I like her.”

He offers a fond smile. “I knew you would.”

Speaking has never been so hard. Everything he says feels wrong, even if he means it. There are too many things on his mind he needs to unravel, and thinking is really hard with Cara lying here, only the two of them in the room, alone with their unspoken secrets.

“Who is she exactly?”

It takes a moment for Din to rip his thoughts off the chaos inside him and remember who _she_ is.

“Now just a very rich widow. She used to be a prostitute, but made her fortune as a spy. She’s good, helped me with several jobs.”

“You trust her.”

It’s not so much a question as a disgruntled observation. It almost sounds like Cara is testing the waters. The purpose of it, Din ignores.

“With my life,” he confirms, and a voice within him echoes: _And yours._

She narrows her eyes at him, but as soon as he meets he gaze she faces away, her head rolling to the other side of the pillow, towards the city and its flickering lights.

"You've got history with her."

"We go way back. It's a long story."

He sees her lips tighten.

 _"Love_ story?"

"Nothing like that."

"You sure?"

Din doesn’t want to be presumptuous, but he has an idea where this is coming from. He sits on the bed, waiting for Cara to turn. She doesn’t, so he reaches out and delicately makes her look at him.

"Let's just say I'm not her type."

Realisation dawns upon her.

"Oh?"

"You, on the other hand..." he teases, succeeding in his attempt to make her laugh.

"Stop right there, buddy.” She shoves him playfully. “Girl's pretty but I kinda have my eye on someone at the moment. As far as my eye can see, anyway."

She quirks a brow as she gives him a quick once-over.

Din has to replay her words in his head a few times before he can detect the actual meaning of them and then still wonder if he’s just imagining it.

"Is that so?" He tips his head to one side, and Cara graces him with a provocative smirk.

"Jealous?"

 _Yes,_ his conscience says, before he reminds himself it’s _him_ she’s talking about.

"You wish. I'm sure I can't compare, anyway."

"Hardly."

His hand finds hers. It’s skin against skin, his gloves and gauntlets long gone along with the heaviest pieces of his armour. Their fingers seek the empty spaces between each other, moving experimentally until they intertwine together in a perfect balance.

Cara stares wistfully as the tip of Din’s thumb strokes the side of her hand in small, cautious circles, savouring the warmth of her as if he’s never known anything but cold. She looks up at him, cheeks tinted with a dust of pink, and mirrors the soft smile he’s hiding beneath his helmet.

And suddenly it’s like everything he wanted to say is being said and understood without him making a fool of himself with babbled, inaccurate speeches, and this is better than words, deeper than words, _truer_ than words.

“How're you feeling?” he asks in a husky whisper.

Cara whimpers as she attempts to move and stretch.

“Like I was run over by a happabore. Multiple times,” she groans, falling back into the pillows, defeated.

Din runs his tongue over his lips.

“We almost lost you,” he says, in case she didn’t know. It’s easier to talk about it now that she’s awake and joking.

“Feels like it.” Cara whimpers some more while pulling herself up to a sitting position. The wide neckline of the blue gown slips off her shoulder in the process, and Din's mouth dries a little.

“What happened? Last thing I remember is insulting you.”

He has to take a deep breath before he can force himself to relive the raw dread of that moment.

“You were bleeding out,” he says, a shudder shaking his spine. “The kid... as soon as he saw you, he did his trick, saved your life.”

Cara’s lashes lower as she grins affectionately.

“That little green bean. Where's he?”

“In the other room with IG. He came to visit you a few times, but-” He can’t even look at her. “I didn't want him to be here if you had-”

“Died?” she offers, brows arched with maddening cynicism.

“Yes. He was so upset when you wouldn't open your eyes.”

Cara scoffs, facing away again.

“Kriff, Mando,” she grunts. “Are you trying to make me cry?”

He appreciates that she still calls him Mando even after he revealed his name to her. It moves him to know that, even outside the battlefield, she’s still protecting him.

“That would make us even,” he breathes, then waits for the meaning of his words to sink in.

Cara's fingers twitch between his. As he expected, she teases him about this, and he secretly gloats for knowing her so well.

“So that's why you look like shit.”

Din taps two fingers on the side of his helmet.

“You don’t know how I look.”

“I can _feel_ how you look,” Cara retorts, and Din has to take back all his smugness for how well he knows her, because she clearly has the higher ground, here. Not that he minds.

“You were unconscious for two days,” he stresses on his own behalf. “I was losing my mind.”

He realises how true this is only after he hears himself say it out loud.

“Thank you,” mutters Cara while he’s busy wondering if she has any idea how terrified he was of losing her. “For going through all this trouble for me.”

That is an understatement considering he was ready to throw himself out there without a plan to buy her and the kid even just one minute.

“You know I'd do it again.”

“Yeah, you would.” Cara rubs her thumb over his hand. “You idiot.”

“Now I’m an idiot for caring about you?”

She rolls her eyes at his defensive tone.

“Don't be a sourpuss. C’mon, come here.” She tugs him down with a nod toward the empty space beside her. “You look like you might use some rest.”

He hesitates, paralysed. He eyes the spot next to Cara and can almost feel the warmth and the softness of her body on his own, a sensation he still carries in his memory after the nights on Hesper VI, when he would fall asleep and wake up with her scent in his lungs and her feet brushing against his calves – an unconscious, innocent gesture that would never fail to jolt him out of his sleep with fire spreading in his loins.

One day he’ll tell her about this, maybe when her knees are not so dangerously close to his crotch.

In the end, exhaustion wins over virtue, and Din tries not to think too much while he lies down next to Cara, his back and neck rejoicing from the relief of touching the pillows.

The delighted moan he lets out prompts a low laugh from Cara. He glowers at her, fully aware that she _knows_ he’s glowering, even though all she sees is his helmet shifting toward her.

They don’t speak or move for a while. They just lie there side by side, soaking up each other’s presence, listening to their breaths slow down until they’re in perfect synch.

After a while Din feels Cara’s cheek upon his shoulder; he looks down at her and finds her staring pensively ahead, like she used to do when she was blind. He exhales a feeble sigh and, pushing away all the _ifs_ and the _maybes_ , lets his head rest upon hers, finally free of his last drop of tension.

"We're gonna have to talk about this at some point,” says Cara when he slides his fingers back into hers.

"This?"

"Us."

Oh.

So, there _is_ an _us?_

He shouldn't be so stupidly elated, but what he and Cara have, what they’ve been building so far... that is something he cherishes and he was ready to set his feelings aside to safeguard their relationship. But this – this closeness, this crack of honestly that’s opening between them – this is what he didn’t dare to hope for.

"I don't think I have that kind of energy right now,” he confesses. As much as he wants to discuss this – _them_ – it’s a little too much to deal with right now. He just got her back: for now, this will be enough.

Cara nods, then starts chuckling.

"Potential power couple too lazy to talk about their feelings. Nice."

Her voice, hoarse from the tiredness, rouses the hairs on the nape of Din’s neck.

"Why do I even put up with you?"

Cara grins up at him.

"I'm hot. I'm smart. I'm a badass. You love my legs.” She nudges him with her knee. “I have a feeling you also like my breasts.”

For once, Din is profoundly thankful for his helmet. If it wasn’t for it, Cara would see how utterly smitten he is and wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. But he is – _smitten_ – and he can’t stop himself from letting it shine through all over his face.

"You and your humility have made your point,” he quips, and Cara might be good at keeping herself together but she doesn’t have his advantage, and _her_ face, however stoically controlled, is an open display of contentedness.

“I owe you,” she says, in a completely different tone, so serious is makes Din tense for a moment. “For not giving up on me, even if it was stupid.”

“You would've done the same.”

“You sure?”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

No, he doesn’t.

He loves this, the simplicity of all of this – them here together, talking about feelings he thought it would be awkward to bring up and which are turning out to be second nature, instead.

His head is still resting over hers, and he can’t help thinking how easy it would be to brush his lips against her temple if it weren’t for the helmet.

 _One day,_ he tells himself, satisfied, for now, that he can hold her hand and have her close, safe and sound.

A knock on the door startles them from their state of quiet bliss.

IG-11's head pops in.

“Excuse me, Master. Mistress.”

Din has been trying for a while not to give too much thought to the fact that IG just assumes he and Cara are his conjoint masters, but now he just can’t deny he feels a bit proud of that.

The droid lingers on the threshold, his head turning from Cara to Din and back a few times. It’s easy to guess what he must be thinking.

“Am I interrupting?”

Cara bites a smirk between her teeth. “Good question.” Then she gives Din an infuriatingly innocent look and asks: “Is he?”

Din groans inwardly. He loves this woman's tongue-in-cheek but at this rate he won’t be able to keep himself for very long from ungentlemanly pushing her into a wall and take everything he she’s willing to give.

“What is it, IG?” he asks, as nonchalantly as he can.

“The child, Master. He's cranky but won’t sleep.”

The kid coos, curled on the inside of the droid's arm. Din feels guilty for the lack of attention he’s been able to grant him in these last couple of days. He’s about to tell IG to leave the child and go, when he hears Cara say:

"He likes to feel warm when he's falling asleep. Give him here.” She lets go of Din’s hand to reach out as IG holds out the kid for her. She welcomes him in her arms with a soft 'Hey' and settles him against her chest, tenderly patting his back.

“Is this warm enough for you, you spoiled brat?” She giggles when the kid happily snuggles his big head under her chin. “Yeah? Thought so.”

Din doesn’t really know what he’s feeling.

A storm of emotions takes over him as he watches Cara cradle the baby, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

He can hardly believe they’re here, the three of them, a picture so perfect it seizes his heart in a ferocious grip it takes him a while to recognise as _love._

“You can go, IG,” he says, barely taking his eyes off them. “Thank you for looking after him.”

“It was my pleasure, Master.”

After IG leaves, Cara arches a brow at Din: “Did you just thank a droid?”

He did. Actually, he hasn’t remotely thanked him enough yet. But he will. He owes that droid everything he holds dear.

“He saved you – saved us all. He’s growing on me.”

The child has fallen asleep in Cara’s familiar embrace.

“Look at him,” she says. “The living portrait of peace.”

“I would be peaceful, too, if I were sleeping where he is,” Din replies, and Cara gives him something between a glare and an amused frown.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“He does look very comfortable.”

Cara tilts her head to consider the sleeping child.

“A girl's bosom is the most wonderful spot to fall asleep,” she muses, making Din nearly choke on his own saliva.

“That’s unfair competition,” he protests. She does have a point.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Cara reassures him. “I’m sure you’re not that terrible as a pillow.”

Din can take a hint when he’s thrown one, he knows what she’s implying. And it’s not like he doesn’t want to do what they both want him to do, but the intimacy of such a gesture – something he isn’t used to – scares him more than he cares to admit.

“I'm not familiar with this sort of... thing."

"Trust me, it shows,” say Cara with a little laugh. 

Din tenses.

“Hey, I'm not complaining,” she quickly clarifies. She elbows him jokingly. “It’s messy, I get it. We don’t have to have it all figured out straight away. We'll settle as we go.”

 _Will_ not _can._

Sounds like some decision has been made.

Din doesn’t even know what to say. He wonders how accurately she can read him, because this is exactly what he needed to hear.

"You sneaked up on me, Dune. I’m not used to be caught off guard.”

Cara’s chest is shaken by a silent laughter. The kid’s head bobs under her chin. She raises a hand to hold it still.

“Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

It’s two in the morning. Galactic City is shining and bristling beyond the glass walls. Din watches the reflection of the three of them and catches himself wishing they could stay like this forever, cocooned in a cloud of serenity and domesticity.

This can’t and won’t last, obviously, but this doesn’t stop him from dreaming.

"I'm glad you're okay."

Cara sighs, probably intercepting the course of his thoughts.

"I'm glad we're _all_ okay. Especially because as soon as I'm out of this bed I owe you a beating."

"I was hoping you'd forgotten about that."

"Not a chance. I'm gonna kick your ass _so_ hard."

He sees this as a promise, not a threat. He doesn’t tell her, though.

"I know you are."

He can’t wait for her to be back on her feet again, but there is still a part of him that dreads what will be of them now that her eyesight has been restored. It’s not that he thinks she would just walk out on him and the kid; he’s just painfully aware that perhaps he needs her more than she needs him, now.

He tells himself he should make the best of this moment, take away as much as he can from it, as long as he has it.

“You should try to sleep,” he says after a long silence. “Close your eyes for a while and rest.”

“Yeah?” It takes Cara a couple of seconds to register what he’s actually suggesting. “Yeah,” she agrees with a half smile. “Maybe I should.”

She rests back against the pillows, the kid safely tucked into her the curve of her folded arm, and lets her eyes flutter closed.

Din’s heart quivers for how unconditionally she trusts him.

He sits up, places his hands at the sides of his helmet, and lifts if off.

The air in the room is anything but cool, but it still feels wonderful after so many hours underneath.

He puts the helmet on the bedside table on his left, then lies back, sliding an arm under Cara's neck, around her shoulders.

“Is this okay?”

Cara snuggles closer to him with a faint, satisfied moan.

“Do I look like I'm going to complain?”

“You _always_ look like you’re going to complain.”

The grudging face she makes seems to say 'Fair', even though all she dignifies him with is a snort.

“You could really use a shower,” she points out, laughing, as she nuzzles her face in the crook of his neck.

He shivers at the light brush of her nose over his skin.

“You too, as a matter of fact.”

“Kriff you, Mando.”

Din closes his eyes, chuckling. “Always so pleasant.”

Cara swats his chest with her free hand, careful not to disturb the child, sleeping sprawled out upon her chest.

“You love it,” she scoffs, and while this is absolutely true, it’s not entirely accurate.

Din lets his mind wander off to impossible thoughts. Thoughts of homes and families and peace and things he never had.

He tucks them away.

It’s still too soon.

“Yes,” he confirms. He bites his tongue to hold back what he can’t confess just yet.

There will be a time when he can tell Cara exactly how he feels.

For now, this will suffice.

“I do... love _it.”_

**Author's Note:**

> This was an emotional rollercoaster and I loved writing this. Hope this is as good as I hope it is, because these two give me a lot of feels and I tend to lose my objectivity.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for your beautiful support! See you at the next chapter! ❤


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